Fatal Intentions by Curtis L. Alcutt

Author:Curtis L. Alcutt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Strebor Books

“You sure that’s where he’s at?” Bruno “Do-Dirty” Grant, former enforcer for the Island Boys gang, asked local gangbanger, Vincent “Stitch-Giver” Riles.

“I’m positive,” Vincent said, recalling how he and Slip had gotten into a heated argument the night Slip ended up shooting and killing Bruno’s little sister in that abandoned hardware store. “I told you he was there when I first talked to you the other day. His bitch-ass is there fa sho; my broad’s brother is a janitor at the county hospital. He said they got him in ICU. I even got his room number; D104.”

Bruno took a puff off of the fat joint hanging on the corner of his mouth. Smoke filled the inside of his midnight blue, top-of-the-line Jeep Commander. The tinted windows helped keep their meeting private. He reached inside his center console and pulled out a silencer and a Walther PK380 pistol. He passed the joint to Vincent, then screwed the silencer onto the gun. “It’s time to make a house-call.”

Vincent watched the tall, bald, chocolate thug pull a combination cap and dreadlock wig off of the backseat and put it on his head. The fake dreads hung to the middle of his back under the red, black and green cap. After Bruno put on his dark sunshades, Vincent said, “ Damn! You look like a whole new person!”

Bruno laid the gun on the dashboard, opened his glove box and pulled out a plastic bag with a fake beard inside. He then looked in the rearview mirror, put it on and smoothed down the fake, jet-black goatee. “If you gonna do ya work, you gotta be equipped.” He then reached in the console and pulled out a set of gold fronts and put them on his teeth. He looked like half of the current rappers. “Fully equipped.”

Vincent tapped ashes from the blunt into the ashtray. “Since we talkin’ business, don’t you have a reward on the head of who shot your sister?”

Bruno stared him down behind his glasses. “You’ll get your money after I confirm he’s the right person.” He started the engine and put the gun in the center console. “You want your money, ride with me.”

Vincent knew he couldn’t punk out if he wanted to maintain his street credibility. He did his best to hide his nervousness as he broke eye contact with the killer seated next to him. “Let’s roll.”

Twenty minutes later, Bruno parked a block away from Baltimore County Hospital and left the engine running. He then pulled out his cell phone and looked at his call history. “Is this your cell number, 267-555-0977?”

Vincent nervously picked at a hangnail on his thumb. “Yeah...that’s it.”

After pulling a pair of black leather gloves out of the pocket built into the bottom of his door panel and putting them on, Bruno reached over and gripped Vincent by the back of his neck and grimaced at him. “Look here, youngsta; don’t go all pussy on me now. I can smell fear comin’ off you like a skunk-sprayed dog.

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